Mistress to the Crown (35 page)

‘There’s worse,’ Hastings growled. ‘The instant I was informed, I rode to the Tower and while I was there, our bitch of a queen ransacked Westminster. The best plate, the tapestries, ornaments, anything that was not nailed down, all taken. It looks like a pantry after a plague of rats have been through.’

I sat back a-gasp. ‘She’s taken it on another ship?’

‘No, crammed the goods into Westminster Sanctuary. Broke down a wall to do it. I have the place surrounded. She’s holed up there with Dorset and the children.’ Elizabeth knee-deep in coffers with bored fledglings? Oh please, yes, greed can be so uncomfortable.

‘And the Great Seal?’ I asked. No royal commands could be given without it. ‘Is it with Chancellor Rotherham or you, William?’

‘
Me
? I wish it were so.’ Hastings thrust himself from his chair. ‘No, the silly, old want-wit handed it to the Queen without a second thought. He’s gone to get it back but, Jesu, what a mess, and there’s me like a prize fool sending to the dukes to say everything is smelling of roses when there isn’t any money to rule the realm.’ His face tightened harshly as though his wounded esteem was a jagged rip in his very flesh. ‘I tell you this, Elizabeth. I’ll not tolerate young Richard reading me a lecture like some schoolmaster with a poker up his arse the moment he arrives.’

‘Of course not,’ I said soothingly, ‘and I’ll wager the Queen will come to terms. She may have the treasure but Gloucester has her brother and two of her sons, and I am sure you can negotiate a truce. Maybe Princess Bess can help. She adores her uncle.’

He snorted, unwilling to be mollified, so I gave him a motherly shake. ‘Heigh now, are you not the great lord who survived the bloody fields at Towton and Tewkesbury, and yet you fear a young
friend’s reprimand? Look at it this way, William, if it wasn’t for your warning, Gloucester might be under arrest by now, but you and he are both at liberty and it seems to me the danger is over. So long as Prince Edward is well, that is what matters.’

But what did the future hold? The Queen would not stay in sanctuary forever, not with a henhouse of young daughters and a chance to rule through her son. The moment the Prince was crowned, all those who had opposed her would be sweating.

I returned to Aldersgate that night but I slept ill. I could see that Hastings, Gloucester and Buckingham would have to protect their backs from the Queen’s inevitable vengeance. How in Heaven could they outwit her? Killing the hostages would only deepen the rift.

Next morning Hastings issued a proclamation that the young king would ride into London on the fourth of May. The city calmed at the news and everything seemed to go off the boil and cool down. I sent Lubbe to Beaumont’s Inn and he returned with a reassuring message from Hyrst informing me that his master and Mayor Shaa had been collaborating on preparations for Prince Edward’s welcome.

Hastings called in on me at suppertime, wanting me back at Beaumont’s Inn, but I made it clear I intended to remain at Aldersgate.

‘You are not saying this because you think I’m too old for you?’ he asked, with the crestfallen look that usually aroused my sympathy.

‘What, suing for compliments when you’ve more vigour than most men half your age?’ Yes, men like to be told superlative lies but this lay close to the truth. ‘No, my great concern is Gloucester and please don’t argue me down. If he still has it fixed in his head
that I am one of Dorset’s familiars, I had rather stay invisible until he returns to the north – for your sake and for mine.’

‘He probably has agents in my household,’ Hastings muttered. ‘I’ve had people in his. Just a precaution to protect Ned, mind. I couldn’t have
both
his brothers running round like lit firecrackers.’

‘And you have a man in Buckingham’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘And mine?’ I had asked that once before.

‘Ned, of course.’

On the appointed day, our young king rode into London with his uncles. I did not watch because the pain would have clawed great lesions in my heart. Instead, when I heard the peals of bells ringing out across London, I knelt on my prie-dieu in prayer for Ned’s soul. For me there was only one sunne-in-splendour.

I learned later that all went merrily. Lord Hastings welcomed Prince Edward and the dukes at the hall of Thomas Kemp, the Bishop of London. Apparently there were no recriminations, no sense of young dogs criticising an old warhorse’s stumblings, but kissing of hands all round and enough promises of loyalty to fill a great man’s library.

The coronation was now set back until the twenty-second of June, but Hastings assured me it would be even more splendid for the delay. No one seemed to mind except, I guess, the Queen. Certainly, my silkwomen sighed with relief to know they had more time, and the guild workshops hummed with activity. London was like a millpond surface on a windless day. Like the rest of the city, I tried not to imagine what turbulence might lie beneath.

As for the great lords: Gloucester, now Lord Protector, unpacked at Crosby Place, where he always lodged, Buckingham
took up residence at his Manor of the Rose down near St Laurence Poultney, and young Edward moved into the royal apartments at the Tower, as was customary for a king before his coronation.

It was as if there were two courts: my Lord Protector’s, where the everyday running of the kingdom was enacted, and the King’s council, where Hastings spent most of his time. Now, when he visited me, instead of worries, he brought cloth samples, and his conversation cantered upon the King. He wished to make himself as indispensable to the son as he had to the father, telling me he felt it was the best way he could serve England. Not unexpected. What great officer can let go of power?

IV

By the end of May it was not just the summer air but also the Lord Protector’s temper that began to heat. Neither Hastings nor my lord of Canterbury had managed to broker a peace with the Queen, and Gloucester refused to free her brother and son unless she consented to bring the children out of sanctuary for the crowning.

To my surprise, Hastings sent me a message that young Edward wished to see me. I was uneasy at obeying lest it annoy the Lord Protector, but how could I disobey a royal command? I clothed myself in a high-necked, modest gown and hid my hair beneath a cone cap with a folded back frontpiece fastened with a simple pearl brooch.

Crossing Tower Hill brought back the foul memory of being caught in the crowd with my brothers when I was a girl and forced to see a Lollard burned and it was a relief to enter the Tower bailey.

A score of carpenters were erecting pavilions between the royal lodging and the White Tower for there would be many young esquires made Knights of the Bath on the eve of the coronation, and the air was bruised with a great deal of shouting, sawing and
hammering. The King was not at the royal apartments and I was directed back to the Lord Lieutenant’s house where I found his highness in the garden with several young esquires and some of his father’s former officers: Sir William Parr, Controller of the Household, Lord Stanley, the royal steward, and Morton, Bishop of Ely.

Our twelve-year old King was very gracious to me and I was permitted to watch as he shot at the butts. Seeing him concentrate as he positioned the shaft and pulled the bowstring tugged at my heart right tenderly for it hurt to glimpse expressions that were so much his father’s. The lad was as tall as me and likely to equal Ned’s height when he was fully grown. His hair, tied back in a tail, was still gilt, a beauteous colour halfway between his mother’s flaxen and his father’s brown. His looks would make a magnificent king and break many hearts and yet … Surely, his demeanour was far too grave for a boy of his age? No wonder, either, for his courtiers were so serious. Whenever his arrow hit the centre of the target, there was no whooping, only a dutiful clapping as though the activity was tedious and they all wished to be elsewhere.

To my astonishment, Edward announced he desired to see me pull the bow.

‘Stand away, please,’ he advised his attendants.

‘Aye,’ said someone. ‘Who knows where a woman may aim her arrows.’

Edward stood close behind me, correcting my balance. ‘I beg you to help me,’ he whispered. Surprise made my shot go wide. ‘Please keep making mistakes.
Put your thumb thus
,’ he instructed loudly. ‘I need to know Mama’s plans and what she intends to do to free my Uncle Rivers. Can you go to the sanctuary and bring me her answer?’ I deliberately shot badly so he might help me again.

‘But, sire,’ I whispered, ‘you may easily send one of your gentlemen with a letter.’

My lesson was causing disapproval. I sensed Parr about to intervene. I aimed properly this time and my arrow caught the outer rim of the target and bounced off. Together, Edward and I walked across to retrieve it.

‘I know you and Mama were rivals,’ he whispered, ‘but, please, good mistress, I know not who to trust.’

‘You may surely trust Lord Hastings,’ I answered.

‘But Mama will not. Please, for the love you bore my father.’ He stooped and picked up the arrow and as he passed it back, pressed a small ring into my palm. ‘Show this to her as a token.’ It was given in the nick of time; Parr insinuated himself between us.

‘Your highness, Master Oliver will be expecting you. Time for study, I’m afraid.’

Edward nodded solemnly. ‘Indeed. Farewell, Mistress Shore, God be with you.’

‘And with you, my sovereign lord.’ I curtsied, my mind rebelling at the task he had begged of me, but how could I refuse Ned’s son, who was now the King?

As I passed Bishop Morton, he looked me straight in the face as if he guessed that more than archery had taken place and flicked his gaze meaningfully to the open window above us. ‘May God
watch over
you, Mistress Shore.’

His warning was apt. As I entered the passageway, I met Catesby in company with Buckingham, which surprised me, but then I remembered that he had long been a legal adviser to the duke.

‘Why, Mistress Shore!’ said Buckingham, as I sank down, my demure gaze fixing humbly upon his expensive shoes. The shabbiness was gone now. Not a surprise; Gloucester had given him control of Wales.

‘Your grace.’

‘Isn’t he a little young for your wiles?’

‘Your pardon?’

‘Our little king.’

I resisted the temptation to smash my fist down on his toes for such an insult. ‘I trust your grace is jesting,’ I replied sweetly.

A tepid smile climbed to his eyes and he moved on.

By Heaven, I flew outside like some poor sparrow frightened by a lurking mouser. What’s more, a sinister Tower raven eyed me as I leaned against the stone rail edging the steps and I shuddered, despite the heat of the afternoon.

‘Elizabeth?’ Hastings’ shadow fell across me. ‘Oh, my dear, are you ill?’

I fanned my hand in front of my throat. ‘It’s a very warm day.’

‘Bodes well for the coronation. Come, have a walk with me if you can bear the heat.’

Colour was back in his face and he had discarded his long black mourning robe for a honey jerkin and a loose blue mantle with slashed sleeves.

He suggested we mount the ramparts that linked the Garden and Lantern Towers, but even up there the air was sizzling and sluggish. I dislike days when the heat presses all colour from the land and the miasmas of pestilence began to stir. It had been hot like this in 1479. Besides, I had Edward’s request scorching my mind. Should I tell Hastings what had been asked of me?

‘My dear, I’ve decided that after the crowning, I’m going up to Ashby for the rest of the summer.’

I was pleased. He had been fretting about his half-built brick keep at Kirby Muxloe. It seemed patient Kate was weary of riding down to chivvy the master-builder.

‘I thought you were indispensable,’ I teased. ‘Will his highness give you leave?’

‘Already agreed. Richard intends to take him on a northern progress to York and I shall go with them as far as Leicester.’

That boded well. Maybe Gloucester might eventually free his hostages.

‘You know, Elizabeth, it would please me if you were to go to your father’s house at Hinxworth during the plague months. I shall know then that you’re safe.’

I had not thought beyond June but I told him yes. Would Dorset be out of sanctuary by then? Yes, maybe I should go.

‘Do you think the Queen will attend her son’s crowning, my lord?’

Hastings smiled like a man who has everything in hand. ‘The King won’t forgive her if she stays away. He said as much to me.’

Below us a freshly painted barge slid from its mooring at the Tower Watergate. Buckingham, seated beneath a scarlet and black canopy, returned Hastings’ salute.

I felt the duke’s stare as keenly as though his breath was in my face. Would he tell Gloucester how he had seen Hastings and Mistress Shore standing so close?

‘I cannot warm to that man,’ I murmured, watching the unison of the oars dipping and rising; the stillness of the duke. ‘Why didn’t Ned have him on the royal council or give him high office?’

Hastings lent against the crenellations, folding his arms. ‘A whole basket of reasons, my dear. He’s the last of the House of Lancaster unless you count Tudor, over in Brittany, so it was politic to keep him dampened down, but, basically, Ned never liked him. The poor brat made a dog’s breakfast of settling into court life, resented being the Queen’s ward and having to marry her sister. No surprise, there – the Staffords are a haughty lot. Dorset and the other Woodvilles used to make sport of him. I always felt sorry for the boy, tried to give him a dollop of advice now and then.’ I wondered how Buckingham felt about that.

‘And now he has the administration of Wales, and Dorset and Grey are fugitives behind four walls and an army of kettleheads,’ I muttered.

‘Aye, that should content him. To my reckoning, he’s always craved the respect people had for his grandfather, the first duke.’

Surely respect was something you earned? It did not necessarily come with a parcel of land or a wand of office. ‘Do you
trust …
him?’ I asked.

‘Put it this way, only Richard and I have ever shown faith in him. He owes us loyalty.’